The Darkness Falling
by bene elim
Summary: The light is winning and the wizarding world is revelling in it. Yet events that have been written for millennia are coming into action. With all sides closing in and struggling for supremacy, one girl could change it all.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This is my first fanfic, so I have no idea if it's going to be any good or not. So far there is no real plot and I'm just going along with it. I would really appreciate any feedback, good or bad, so tell me what you think of it. Any ideas or suggestions to make the story better are welcomed.**

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Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, only the plot and some of the characters. Chances are anything you recognise, I do not own.

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Rain crashed down on the grey cobbles of the street, obscuring the lane from all looking out. To anyone gazing out from their window, they would see nothing. They wouldn't see the woman alight from a dark alleyway, look left and right through the sheet of water and they wouldn't see her step across the cobbled road and into the building across the way. All but one that was.

As she slid through the door, the watcher stepped away from the window and walked down the stairs. If they had stayed, they too, would have seen the dark figure emerge from the shadows and follow the woman.

* * *

Looking left and right, the woman double-checked that no one had followed her, no matter what anyone said, the times still weren't safe. Certain she wasn't being followed; she rapped the heavy, gold knocker off the door… once… twice… three times.

Pulling her cloak tighter around her, she peered into the rain. The house looked out over a quiet street, where many of the houses were boarded up, giving them a neglected, lonely look. It wasn't exactly a pleasant neighbourhood, yet then again, she didn't expect it to be. She shivered and reached up to knock on the door again. It thudded against the rotting wood heavily.

Turning away she saw a flicker of movement to her left. Staring into the darkness, she was sure she saw something when the door scraped open and revealed a man she hadn't seen in a very long time.

* * *

"I see you got my message," the man remarked, his voice weak with strain.

"I did," she replied, curtly.

He looked at her strangely through his slightly prominent eyes, opening his mouth to say something. She silenced him with a flash of her eyes. Gulping slightly, he scuffled around to get something from a cupboard she hadn't noticed before. It was old and dusty. The woman took this opportunity to study him.

The years hadn't been kind to him. Gone was the strong man, she knew of old. In his place was a mere shell of a man. His back was hunched over, as if bent from years of constant hiding; his eyes stuck out from his face and had taken on a manic gleam and he jumped at the slightest sound. He was a man broken.

She was brought out of her reverie by a loud lump on the table, causing one of the legs to groan pitifully. The box was old, covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. It obviously hadn't been touched in years.

He came forward slowly, his arm shaking as he placed the small, jade key into the lock. As he twisted the key, rhythmic humming sounded all around the room, a small seed of doubt churning in her stomach. There was a reason that that box was locked.

Glancing up at her, he asked if he should continue. "Yes," she answered softly, "it has to be done."

He made a small whimpering sound. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him. If he continued, she'd start to panic too and she couldn't let that happen. There was too much to lose.

Walking stiffly to the table, she placed her hand alongside his, tensing slightly as the humming intensified. It built up in a crescendo, growing louder and louder until it was unbearable. Gripping the box tightly, she refused to let go, fixing the man with a deadly glare as his hand started to move. Faster and faster the beat went, pounding in her head. Flashes of memories blurred behind her eyelids. Death, destruction, so much pain. She wanted to pull away: to pull away and shield herself from the onslaught of images. Fire blazed and people, faces, twisted and burned until they were unrecognisable. Pieces of marred flesh.

With a blinding flash of light, her world exploded and she was flung against the back wall. All was still.

* * *

The watcher crept outside of the house the woman had entered. He'd been ordered to follow her, to make sure she didn't do anything that wasn't meant to happen yet. So far, it had been pretty boring. He'd had to keep to the shadows as he followed her and the novelty of spying had worn off pretty soon. He wondered why they wanted her watched. Why was she so important? Surely there were others more vital to the design that needed to be watched. Why her?

He watched through the window as she spoke with a small, pathetic man. He could barely see their faces, let alone see what they were saying. The small man said something that caused her eyes to flash. The watcher moved in closer.

Following the man with his eyes, he failed to notice the woman staring at the place where he was standing. His eyes burnt with interest as the small man bent up from a cupboard that he hadn't seen. In his hands was a small wooden box. The box was ancient and looked like nobody had used it in a very long time. The man rested it on a table. A small green key was placed in the lock.

He didn't notice the vibrations at first, but as he watched on, he noticed a loud throbbing coming from the box. Where their hands were rested on it, the wood was moving up and down. Paralysed with fear, the watcher looked on. The wood moved faster and faster, and then it exploded.

A bright light burst from the centre, throwing tentacles of light all around the room. The watcher looked on in horror as first the man was thrown against the wall, sliding into a crumpled heap on the floor. Blood pooled around him. His foot twitched; he was still.

On the other side of the room, the woman looked to be faring no better. The glowing ropes hadn't hit her yet, yet she didn't even notice them. Silent tears were streaming down her face and her body shook. He wondered what it was she was seeing. What was happening?

With a resounding crack, the cord of light struck her in the stomach. It sent her hurtling backwards towards the wall. She hit it with a sickening crunch. Instead of falling down the wall like the man, he watched as the tentacle held her in place, keeping her from moving.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something emerge from the box that he was sure he would never forget. Shifting and settling like giant shadows, a black haze seeped from the box. It twisted and morphed until it settled in the form of a woman.

She was beautiful, terrifyingly so. Long, black tendrils fell to her back, contrasting vividly with her deathly pale skin. Her perfect features were blank, Her face void of her expression. He watched transfixed as she glided towards the woman suspended in the air, with stunning grace. She cocked her head and moved closer, breathing in as if to taste her. When she opened her eyes, he shuddered in disgust.

Where her eyes should have been, were two pools of black. They flickered with hate and intensity. Never had he seen something so evil. Power radiated from her, darkness seeping from every pore. With startling ferocity, she grabbed the woman's face, deep red nails drawing blood. She shook the woman violently and deep brown eyes met black.

For what seemed like eternity, they stared at each other, warmth boring into cold. Winds started to pick up and the watcher shivered as his robes shifted. Inside the house, the wind was roaring too. The women's hair whipped across their faces and a tornado of dust and debris engulfed them.

A soul-splitting scream tore from the first woman's lips. Her body shook and her eyes rolled back into her head. The dark woman's eyes glinted at this and she smirked as the woman started to speak.

_When light fails and darkness rules… one who has hidden will come to power… the darkness will welcome them, and only through pain and suffering, may the light prevail… for greatest love comes from greatest foe, and their betrayal shall set the world to right… _

The woman spluttered and coughed, her voice hoarse. Her eyes widened in fear as she took in the dark woman's triumphant grin. With casual accuracy, the woman plunged her blood-coloured talons into the others woman's heart, smiling evilly.

The watcher closed his eyes. Stealing once again into the shadows, he snuck away to warn them. This was not how it was meant to happen.


	2. Chapter 2

"Malfoy?" Hermione asked quietly, pushing open the door slightly. She glanced around the darkened room for any sign of the ferret. In the corner, shiny, blond hair peeked over the bright orange covers. Trying to make as little noise as possible, she crept over to where he was sleeping. Every now and then she'd freeze as Ron shuffled and grunted but when he let out a huge, guttering snore, she knew she was safe.

Finally, she made it over to the bed where he lay. The witch couldn't help but smile. There, tangled up in Chudley Cannon sheets, sucking his thumb was Draco Malfoy. Hermione choked, as she struggled to hold back the belly laugh that wanted to escape. Really, this was too good to be true. If only she had her camera, she smirked vindictively. Oh well, she grinned; maybe this was something he did every night. Perfect blackmail opportunities.

"Draco," she murmured, "Draco, wake up." Rather than opening his eyes, the blond just sighed and snuggled further into the covers. Hermione rolled her eyes. She really didn't have time for this. "Malfoy. Wake up." Still nothing.

"Great," Hermione huffed. Scanning the room, she wondered how loud she could get away with being. Ron was out dead; she doubted a foghorn could wake him up. Fred and George weren't even back yet. She wondered where they could be at this time of night. Knowing them it could be anywhere. When her gaze alighted on the bed next to the farthest wall, she frowned. The small tufts of messy, black hair erupted from beneath the duvet. Harry was the problem.

Ever since Dumbledore's death last year, he had been jumpy. He barely slept, and when he did, it was very lightly. Hermione knew he held himself responsible. She'd heard him dream about it. She'd heard his tortured moans as he force fed Dumbledore the potion that ultimately weakened him, over and over again.

Her and Ron had tried to talk to him about it, but whenever they did, he brushed them off. He was fine, he'd say, or "there's nothing wrong". It worried them. In the mornings, he'd sit with dark circles around his face, looking more tired than usual, and they'd know he'd had another nightmare. It hurt her that he was going through this. He was her best friend and there was nothing she could do to help.

Behind her, Draco shifted again. Hermione scowled, back to the problem at hand. Turning over her options in her head, she went about searching for the best way to deal with him. She considered physically ejecting him from bed, but immediately dismissed that idea. He had beefed out considerably over summer. All the extra quidditch training with Harry and Ron had given him muscles that were definitely not there last year. She very much doubted her 5ft 6 frame could lift that.

She stepped back, cursing when a floorboard creaked, pursing her lips. She could always run about the room shouting and clanging pots to get his attention, but that would wake the rest too, and that was something she _definitely_ did not want to happen. Breathing deeply, the brunette leant over the bed until she was face to face with the sleeping man.

"Malfoy," she trilled. "Malfoy… wake up…" When he still refused to wake up, Hermione glared angrily at the annoying snake. "Fine, if that's how you want it play it."

She waited until he shifted slightly in his sleep and then savagely jabbed her wand between his ribs. His eyes flew open and in a second he had her pinned beneath him, his wand at her throat. At the flash in his eyes, she whimpered.

"Hermione?"

She nodded nervously. He looked at her sleepily, his brow creased. "Um, Draco," she gulped, "do you mind getting off of me?"

His eyes travelled her face, to where he was resting on top of her, confusedly. It took him a few seconds to take in what she was saying, but when he did, a delighted smirk grew across his face. "And why would I want to do that, Granger?"

Her eyes widened in disbelief. The blond's eyes danced. "You know, Granger. I quite like it here."

"Draco Malfoy," she bit out, "if you do not get off me right like this second, I swear, I-I, I'll…"

"You'll what?" he asked, his voice coloured with amusement. "Stutter at me?"

Hermione began a scathing retort, but Draco silenced her. "Don't feel bad, most girls do that around me."

The brunette spluttered in indignation. Seeing his laughing face, she scowled and pushed him off her. "If you're not too busy _deluding_ yourself," Hermione snapped, "we have to go."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously as he held up his hands in mock surrender. "Gee, Granger, I get it. You're just not ready to admit your feelings yet. Don't worry I'll wait for you." Hermione grimaced as he lifted wide, adoring eyes to her.

"Ugh." She glared at him scornfully. She stalked to the door and span around to see him staring blearily after her. "Just get ready and meet outside."

This time not caring who she woke, Hermione slammed the door as hard as she could on the way out, "Wait for you indeed."

Sitting up drowsily, the Boy Who Lived looked confusedly at the blond Slytherin. "Wa' that 'Ermione?"

Hermione growled. What was it about Draco Malfoy that always seemed to irritate her? It was like he was out to make her life as annoying as possible. The little ferret was there all the time with a stupid smirk on his stupid face and a stupid comment ready to throw at her. Wow, eloquently put, Hermione, the little voice inside of her remarked.

The brown-haired witch snorted as she stomped down the rickety stairs of the Burrow. Remains of last night's celebrations still littered the floor and one or two people dozed on the lumpy sofas and chairs. The sight of Lupin and Tonks curled up together on the settee lightened her mood. Tonks' bright pink was splayed across his chest, the shocking colour contrasting vividly with his shabby robes. She was glad they finally admitted their feelings and got over the silly werewolf issue. Despite their differences, the witch couldn't imagine two people better suited.

Tiptoeing past them, Hermione made her way towards the kitchen. Hopefully she could grab some breakfast before anyone else woke up. The wooden door was partly open, the early morning sunlight peaking through the crack. Hermione smiled. If there was one thing she loved, it was the Burrow at dawn. Golden rays danced across every surface, basking every room in a warm glow. Over the hill, the first signs of daybreak peaked from behind trees as tall as giants. In the sky, birds soared, climbing as high as they could to greet the morning sun. It was perfect. It was home.

After she'd modified her parents' memories to protect them from Voldemort, she had found herself without a home. She'd thought about just living by herself but Molly wouldn't hear of it. They were family, the redheaded woman had insisted, and family sticks together. So Hermione had found herself the Weasley's eighth child. The young witch smiled at the memory.

Crossing the cluttered kitchen quickly and silently, she grabbed the first apple she saw. It wouldn't do to miss breakfast, she thought wryly. Not that she didn't love Molly, she did. But sometimes the incessant mothering got on her nerves. The woman meant well but Hermione didn't need to be mollycoddled all the time. She was nearly of age; she could take care of herself.

"Well I guess that's what we're going to find out," she muttered dryly.

Hermione made her way down to the creek beyond the orchard where the boys played Quidditch. The air was cool and crisp and the brunette soon had rosy cheeks where the cold nipped at her. Along the path, wildflowers bloomed. Splashes of red, blue, purple and yellow mingled with deep green. Bending down, the curly haired witch breathed in the scent of the blossoming flowers, sighing contentedly. Chuckling silently, she picked up a blue flower and ran the rest of the way to the creek.

The creek was set in a small clearing surrounded by trees and a small circle of rocks. It was on one of those that Draco Malfoy found her thirty minutes later. Her long, curly hair was spread across the rock face, honey highlights shining in the sun. Dark eyelashes fluttered against her light skin and her pink mouth was opened slightly in sleep, a small blue flower clasped lightly in her hand. However, it was none of these things that made him smile. No, Draco Malfoy was smiling because Hermione Granger was snoring. Yes, snoring.

The blond circled the rock, amused. He couldn't help the sniggers that slipped past his normally cool composure. Every so often her chest would rise and fall and she would let out an almighty roar. Draco wiped his eyes as he recovered from a particular violent laughing fit. Gasping, he prodded her in the arm. "Granger. Wake up."

She responded with a loud snore and turned away from him. The young man narrowed his eyes. He tried, unsuccessfully, to wake her for five more minutes. Growling, he glared at the sleeping witch. He was really fed up now. He'd rushed his morning routine for her and here she was sleeping. He'd only brushed his hair once, for Merlin's sake. Not to mention she'd woken him up. Well, he smirked evilly; two can play at that game.

Creeping up behind her, he waited until she let out a snore and then shoved.

She fell with startling grace. Her arms reached up and her body span as she rolled off the edge of the rock. The same could not be said about her landing. She landed face first in the mud, with her bum sticking up in the air. Not that he was complaining. It was quite a nice view from where he was standing.

He stepped back involuntarily as she got up. Her toffee eyes were glinting furiously and her knuckles were white where she gripped her wand. She advanced on him, brandishing her wand threateningly, looking quite intimidating despite the fact that she had leaves sticking out from her hair and mud on her face. "You pushed me!" she screeched, annunciating each word with a poke from her wand.

"Well done, Granger. Ten points to Gryffindor for stating the obvious," he drawled. He smirked. There was something quite amusing about Granger when she was riled up.

"What the hell did you do that for?" she screamed, prodding him again with the wand. What was with that anyway? If she weren't careful she'd put someone's eye out. Or maybe that was the point. Wisely, he moved backwards.

"It's not my fault you're impossible to wake up."

"Oh that's rich," the brunette retorted. "I doubt even fighting giants could wake you up, Malfoy. Or were you just too busy getting off with your thumb?"

"What _are _you talking about, Granger?" he asked in a bored tone.

Her eyes glittered evilly. "Oh," she said, nonchalantly, "just that when _I _tried to wake _you, you _were too busy sucking your thumb to bother **getting your fat backside out of bed!**" The last words came out as a roar.

The blond gazed at her stupidly for a second, opening and closing his mouth like a guppy. Turning away, he ground out, "I do not suck my thumb."

Hermione grinned as he stalked off into the woods. Hermione 1, Malfoy 0.

Sighing, she jogged to catch up with him. He led her through the forest, twisting and turning so many times that she was sure she'd not be able to find her way back. The further in they got, the closer the trees grew together and little light shone through the emerald canopy. Shivering, she edged closer to Malfoy. A couple of times she stumbled in the undergrowth, eliciting a few sniggers from the ferret. A few choice words shut him up.

It was getting close to midday. She could tell as more light was coming through the barrier of trees and the dark shadows were shortening. They walked past a mangled tree. Its long, strong body was covered in thick, knotted vines and there were long scratch marks where the bark had been torn off. For some reason it strongly resembled Mad-Eye Moody.

Not looking where she was going, Hermione crashed full on into Malfoy. "Watch where you're going-" The insult buzzed angrily on her tongue but it soon died away, as she realised he wasn't paying her any attention. Instead he was focused on something before them.

Directly ahead was a huge cave. The dark, emptiness of the mouth stood out sharply against the life flowing around them. "Is this it?" she asked.

He nodded slowly. Glancing up at him, she noticed that he was frowning. "Look, Hermione, are you sure you want to do this?"

Meeting his piercing silver gaze, she nodded resolutely. "Yes. I have to. I'm sick of being the one left out."

His grey eyes held hers for a while longer as if searching for some sign of doubt. Finding none he let out the breath he'd been holding. "Well come on, then."

Without a backwards glance he set off and walked into the gaping black hole that was the cave.

The walls of the cave were wet and slimy. A strange gloop hung from them, sticking to anything and everything. Hermione shuddered in disgust, staying as far away from the walls as possible. She may not care about clothes but she certainly did not want that on her clothes. Something told her it would be impossible to get off. Not to mention it stunk to high heaven.

She could hear Malfoy muttering something about the state of his hair. A barely suppressed snort escaped her as her eyes travelled up to his hair. The once platinum silk was covered in thick brown sludge. He looked ridiculous, and judging from the death glares she was getting, he knew it too. "Don't say a word," he hissed dangerously.

Hermione shook her head, "Wasn't going to."

He growled and stalked off further into the cave. Hermione sniggered. One word: predictable. However, she had to speed up a little, as she could no longer see him in the darkness. Great, that was just what she needed, to be stuck in a manky cave for the rest of her life. Stumbling along the way, she eventually caught up to the great blond buffoon. She could see his smirk. Prat.

Small tunnels branched off the first room they came too. There was about eight altogether, twisting and turning around the room. Three were too small or thin to get through, while the roof collapsing had blocked two others in. One was a dead end. Only two were left open.

"So…" Hermione said, clasping her hands together. "Which one? Any bright ideas seeing as you dragged me down here?"

Malfoy gritted his teeth. "This was your idea if I remember Granger."

"Yeah, yeah, and it still is," she backtracked. "I just expected it to be somewhere less… dirty." She screwed up her face.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Please, if anyone has a right to complain it's me. I was the one practically begged into doing this so just get over yourself. Besides, if I can live with the dirt, so can you. After all, you're used to it," he sneered.

"God, Malfoy. After everything that's happened you're still carrying on with your ridiculous, inbred Pureblood mantra? And people thought you had changed," she mocked, coolly. "Imagine how disappointed they'll all be when they find out you're nothing but a big fat liar."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Really Granger, with those thighs, you have no right to be calling anyone fat."

Hermione growled.

However, he had a point, she mused. It was her idea. She wanted this so badly. Hell, she'd have to if she'd asked Malfoy for help. But she knew neither Harry nor Ron would help her, so really she had no choice. It was him or nothing, and nothing was unacceptable.

"Fine," she acquiesced, "I'm sorry. This cave just makes me jumpy."

"What? The great Hermione Granger is scared of something? Someone ring the Prophet!"

"Haha, Malfoy, my sides are splitting," she muttered, sarcastically. "Just choose one."

"Well that's what I was doing before _someone _interrupted me," he argued under his breath.

The witch ignored him. What was the point in retorting? She was already regretting her decision. He obviously wasn't going to make this easy for her. Then again, what did she expect from the great bouncing ferret? Looking for a clean bit of wall, Hermione leaned back. From the frown on his face this was going to take a while, she might as well be comfortable.

After a mind-numbingly boring ten minutes, Malfoy finally picked the tunnel on the right. Stretching her muscles, she pushed off the wall. The floor of the tunnel was angled slightly, leading further and further under the ground. Wrapping her jacket tighter around her, Hermione shivered, as the air got colder. Her breath came out in short puffs in front of her, mingling with the stale air in the tunnel. As the darkness grew, the tunnel became eerier. A slight scratching came from the ground by her feet. Without thinking she grabbed hold of Malfoy. She felt him tense and waited for him to brush her off. Yet, to her surprise he didn't. Instead he grasped her hand tightly in his and led the way down the passageway.

Time went by quickly and soon they came out in a large cavern. Hermione gaped in awe as she took in the sheer massiveness of the cave. It was huge. The ceiling was easily 50 ft tall and she had no doubt that the Great Hall could fit in here ten times over. She peeked over to her right and saw Malfoy gaping at the sight in a similar awestruck fashion. She smiled to herself. However, it was not the size of the room that was spectacular, it was the walls.

The craggy walls were covered in thousands of drawings. Huge murals spread across the entire cavern. Each wall depicted a different scene. The whole place pulsed with power.

In one a man towered over piles of bodies. Hermione shivered just looking at it. There was something about it that gave her the chills. The entire picture was in black in white except for one thing: the eyes. She peered harder at them, trying to make them out but as far as she could see, they were not one set colour. Rather they were a bright mix of the darkest brown the brightest green, the most piercing blue and mysterious grey. Yet what unnerved her the most was the slightest sheen of red that gleamed near the pupil. Flashes of another pair of red eyes crossed her mind. Her body turned cold and she moved as far away from the painting as she could.

On the other side of the room was an even larger image. A table was set up in the middle, a strange icon in its centre. Twelve figures surrounded it. She frowned slightly as she tried to place the symbol. Two black wings wrapped around a figure that had been ran through by a sword. Again, the only bit of colour was in the eyes. The witch was disconcerted. Was this a recurring theme? Looking about the cavern she could see it was. She wondered why. Maybe Malfoy had an idea.

However, when she turned to ask he was completely entranced with an image on the far wall. His grey orbs stared wondrously at the painting. She had to admit, it was spectacular. It certainly was the most complex. Practically filling the whole wall was a woman. She was gorgeous. She could definitely see Malfoy's attraction. Yet when she looked closer it was not one woman, but two.

On top of the first woman black lines were etched over, giving the impression of her skin stretching and distorting. It should have been grotesque, and in a way it was, but there was something beautiful about it, something compelling. The dark other woman seemed to emphasise her beauty at the same time as completely marring it. It was almost as if there were two separate souls in one body and they were trying to get free. She smiled wryly; she could empathise with that.

"It's really something, isn't it?" Malfoy mused, gesturing around the cavern.

Hermione nodded deeply, "That it is. I wonder who made it?"

"How should I know?"

"It was a rhetorical question, Malfoy," she said waspishly.

"Then why ask it?" he snapped.

Hermione sighed. She'd had the same conversation with Harry and Ron enough times to realise that it was best not to reply.

"Well, before you start a big old lecture that is no doubt going to bore me to tears, why don't we get started," he said, as if the conversation drained him.

Hermione scowled. Malfoy smiled sweetly and walked off. In the centre of the room was a large, stone dais, raised off the ground. It made a small stage, or, she thought with a shiver, an altar. She watched, unsure, as Malfoy gracefully climbed up onto it. He circled it once before coming to rest in the middle. Stretching out his hand, he beckoned to her. Nervously, she stepped onto the dais with him. With an expressionless face he pulled out his wand and trained it on her. She sucked in a breath.

"You said you wanted to learn how to fight. So fight."


End file.
